


A Very Merry Drowcember

by allthepresidentsmemes



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Child Abuse, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Drow, Drow Elf, Drow Elves, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Roles, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5336723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthepresidentsmemes/pseuds/allthepresidentsmemes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by http://aiffe.tumblr.com/post/134312812291/drowcember-themes. Drow don't really have a concept of Christmas, or of winter really. That's what makes teaching them all the more fun!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drow Women

The light of the upper world was, for once, easy on Myr Arkenlyl’s eyes. It was night, but everything around her seemed to be cast in a grey glow. She looked up at the sky in confusion.

“Ash?” She asked as the pale flakes drifted around her.

Vilaria giggled. The Wood Elf held a slender hand up in the air and allowed the flakes to fall onto her palm. To Myr’s surprise, they melted into water and then vanished. “Sorcery?” Myr clutched her staff a bit tighter, the marks on her face beginning to glow with a subtle light.

“No, you idiot,” The Commandant said affectionately. The Half-Orc’s mouth split into a wide grin. “It’s snow. Haven’t you ever seen snow before?”

“Snow?” Myr said.

“It’s what happens when rain freezes,” The ever helpful Phicoria explained. “I don’t think the Underdark has anything like it. Certainly we don’t where I’m from. It never gets cold enough to snow there. I’ve only seen it a few times.”

Phicoria stuck out her forked tongue and caught one of the flakes. The Dragonborn looked all too pleased with herself. Myr gave the sky a suspicious look.

“What does it mean? Is it an omen?”

“Of sorts, I suppose,” Vilaria answered. She drew her cloak tighter around herself. “Sometimes the severity of a snowstorm can be used to predict how the rest of the winter may go. But other times snow is just snow.”

“I do not like snow.” Myr said. The cold flakes continued to drift around her. With a shake of her head, she tried to displace the snow in her hair but that only made it fall onto her shoulders.

“Oh, don’t be like that Myr!” The Commandant said. Myr only pulled her hood over her head in response.

“Snow can be fun!” Vilaria insisted.

“You think everything is fun.” Myr said. She wondered if her magic could create a barrier around her, but she decided against trying. Myr doubted that Lolth would approve of her using Lolth’s gift to protect herself from this ‘snow’.

“Drow have no sense of fun.” The Commandant muttered. She walked over to the other side of the hill and looked down at the town in the distance.

“I like to have fun.” Myr said, a trifle offended.

“Your idea of fun is a bit different from ours, Myr.” Phicoria said.

“You’re one to talk!” Myr said to her fellow Warlock. But it was true. The others didn’t have a taste for Myr’s brand of fun. Somehow, they didn’t see the amusement in using Spider Climb to go up a wall and jumping on whoever walked below them. The fools…

“Woo!” With a leap, the Commandant flung herself down the hill. Her body tumbled into a previous pile of snow. “This is fun! Come on, Phicoria!”

The Dragonborn let out a screech of joy. Phicoria ran over to the hill and jumped into the air, her robes twisting around her as she tumbled gracelessly after her friend.

“Children!” Myr hissed. “Lunatics! Petulant brats!”

“They’re just having fun, Myr,” Vilaria said softly. She walked over to Myr and placed her hand on her shoulder. Myr stiffened but didn’t remove it. She hated to be touched, but she trusted Vilaria more than most.

“It’s okay to have fun.” Vilaria said, her tone soothing.

Myr said nothing. Vilaria patted her on the shoulder and began to walk down the hill, her body hunched in the wind. In the distance, Myr could hear Phicoria and the Commandant’s laughter.

Myr looked back up at the sky. The dim light seemed to have grown darker in the time they had been on the hill. It reminded her of the glow that was always present in the Underdark. She suppressed an urge to shiver as uncomfortable memories began to seep into her head. In the back of her mind, she swore she could hear Lolth laughing.

Myr knelt to the ground to examine the ‘snow’ closer. By this point, enough had fallen for her to pick it up. She stared at it for a moment before she clenched her fist. To her surprise, it didn’t melt. Rather, it seemed to make a ball.

Myr stared at it for a moment. She used her magic to pick it up and move it around. She glanced over at the tree nearby and smashed it into it. The snowball broke into several pieces. It made quite a mess, but it didn’t seem to cause amount of real harm.

To her surprise, Myr found herself grinning. She began to create more snowballs, holding her creations in the air with her mind. Silently, she started to move to catch up with her friends.

Perhaps it was time for Myr to have her own brand of fun.


	2. Drow Men

I was born to a respectable house to a respectable matron. My mother wasn’t the most powerful of women, but she had a strength to her that earned her the favor of Lolth. She liked to say that her house was going places, that within a century or so, we would be the ones on top. She told me that I would be the one to rule.

From the beginning, I wasn’t like my sisters. While they happily went to the matrons to learn the ways to control, I preferred the company of my father. He had been taken as a mate by my mother after my birth. She said that he could provide her with strong children. I think he accepted because he loved her. That was foolish of him, but it was his only fault. He was always blinded by her.

I would sit with him for hours, or at least as long as I could get away from the servants. Mother respected her maid more than she respected my father, and she said it was unfit for her eldest daughter to spend so much time with him. Back then, I didn’t understand why I was seen as better than my father. Why was a child more respectable than a man who had served his house well? It wasn’t until I grew up that I answered that question. And that answer still haunts me.

But back to my father. He had been a foot soldier before he lost his heart to my mother. Now he spent his days in the shadows of our house, only seeing his mate when she desired to be with child. But I could always find him. I think he was looking out for me too. Even then, I think he realized that I was different.

“Child,” He said one day during a lull in the conversation. “Why do you seek me out? Wouldn’t you rather play with your sisters? That’s where a young lady like you should be.”

Something deep inside of me twisted at the thought of being a ‘young lady’, but I didn’t know what it was. Instead, I spoke: “Do you not want to talk with me, father?”

He sighed. “That’s not what I mean, child. I love our talks. But…females have a different lot in our society then males. We have different paths. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I went away from that conversation more confused than ever. Why could he not walk the same path I did? Why did we have to meet in the dark? What was wrong with my father?

It was only later that night that I answered my own question. I was lying in the large bed that my mother had slept in as a child, as did her mother, and her mother, and so on and so forth. I had always liked my bed and I knew that my sisters had beds that were similarly well made. As I was drifting off, I found myself wondering what sort of beds my brothers had.

My eyes shot open. I had never, not once, seen my brother’s rooms.

My eyes never closed again. I saw everything. I saw how my brothers were denied food so that my sisters could gorge themselves. I saw how my father was screamed at when my mother gave birth to another son. I saw how the male servants came and went and how I never saw the same one twice. I saw men being whipped and maimed and hurt everywhere I looked. And for what?

That was the question, wasn’t it? And as I looked into the mirror and saw that perfect little Drow matron in training, I felt my heart sink. Because I didn’t want to look at that girl in the mirror. I wanted to look into the mirror and see a man staring back at me.

I didn’t dare speak my mind. Instead, I tried to cope with my feelings the best I could. I bit back screams when my mother introduced me as her eldest daughter. I held myself in such a way that hid how I recoiled when my dress touched my skin. And at night, when I laid in that godforsaken bed that had been made for me, I planned my escape.

My coming of age loomed ever nearer. My mother had already arranged for me to take a mate from a respectable house. I couldn’t stand the thought of him but my mother didn’t care. All she cared about was me being safe, even if I had to be miserable. As the ceremony drew ever nearer, I could feel the weight of my future tightening around my neck like a noose. And although I had no practical skills and even though I had no concrete plans, I had to get out.

And that’s what I did. I drugged the servants the night before I was to meet my mate. I gathered what little I could and bound my chest using fabric from a dress I destroyed.

I slipped into the night, truly free for the first time in my life. And I didn’t look back.

I admire his bravery, that boy I was then. I’m still not sure how I did it. But as I walked into the darkness of the city, utterly alone, I remembered something I had heard once. It was a name. My father’s clan name.

And in that moment, I knew who I was. I was a man of House Aleansek. I was Lesdrin Aleansek. And it didn’t matter that I had nothing. I had a name, at least. And through that name, I was free.


	3. Drow Children

Lolth smiles, but not out of benevolence. Her grin is malice embodied. Sharp teeth jut from a bloodied mouth. Her eyes are wide and crazed. Whoever sculpted this sculpture must have been inspired or terrified. Perhaps it was both.

Aunbaste once heard that Lolth appeared to those who had earned her favor. Aunbaste has no idea what she’ll do if she is one of those people. She could barely stand to stare at Lolth’s statue. If she met the real Lolth, she would be immobilized.

“Bow, you insolent brat!” A sharp nailed hand pushes Aunbaste to the ground. She doesn’t react, her eyes never leaving Lolth’s face. She’s been in the monastery long enough to know what treatment the initiates get.

“Bow before the Spider Mother!” Aunbaste obediently lowers her head and closes her eyes. At the very least, she won’t have to look upon the goddesses face anymore.

Mollified, the Monk returns her attention to the other initiates. “This is your first meditation ceremony in the inner crypt. This is where we devote ourselves to the Spider Mother. You all aspire to become Monks of our Order. I tell you that no more than ten of you will survive our challenges. And the penitent will make up those ten. If you hope to pass, then you better earn Lolth’s favor.”

A cold wind blew through the crypt, yet no door was open. Aunbaste stiffened and for a moment, she thought she heard laughter.

Her eyes opened. The statue was still leering in her face, yet it seemed almost…closer. Aunbaste shivered, and immediately felt angry. She was behaving like a surface dweller. Here she was, an initiate of the Order of Lolth’s Crypt, and she was frightened of the great being who gave her life. How pathetic. How ungrateful. Her fear was a sign of Lolth’s displeasure in her.

Aunbaste clenched her fists. Well, that was it. She wouldn’t be a disappointment to Lolth anymore. She would be the bravest of servants, the most loyal and most faithful. She was honor bound to defend Lolth with her very life, and Aunbaste would fulfill that bound. Her head dropped again and she began to prey, her words rapidly whispered under her breath. She was strong. She had to be. Otherwise, Lolth’s wishes would never be fulfilled.

Above the child’s head, Lolth’s smile seemed to grow just a tiny bit wider.


	4. Settings/Cities/Backgrounds

The problem with having three monks in one group meant that there was always going to be inter-order rivalry. Even though Vilaria’s order and Aunbaste’s order had never met, and no matter how many times somebody pointed out that Aunbaste’s order and Faraine’s order had nothing in common, the arguments still broke out. Thus, the group learned to stay far away from any topic that even remotely involved monasteries.

That’s why Aunbaste was surprised when Vilaria asked the question.

“What does your monastery look like?”

Aunbaste opened her eyes. “What do you mean?” Her voice was tired.

Aunbaste felt Vilaria shrug. She snuggled closer to the Drow elf and placed her head on Aunbaste’s chest. “Oh, Faraine and I were just talking about what our monasteries were like.”

On the other side of her, Aunbaste felt Faraine shift slightly. “I was just curious.” She said almost defensively.

“Well…” Aunbaste thought for a moment. What _was_ her monastery like? She had never tried to describe it before.

“It’s located in a cemetery,” She started. “The graveyard is massive. Large mausoleums dot the area and the only light comes from the glowing crystals installed so mourners can see the path. Sometimes, the Elders of our order will even turn them off so we can train.”

“Your order is located in such a public place?” Vilaria asked. “That’s weird. Mine is very isolated.”

“Ours is too,” Aunbaste explained. “We’re only allowed outside when the cemetery is closed to the public.”

“So where do you train?” Faraine asked.

“We train in the crypts. There is a tunnel system that leads from each building. We train down there and when outsiders are gone, we train amongst the dead.”

“How morbid!”

Aunbaste shrugged, which was a difficult task when you had a lover on each side. “It serves as a reminder of what awaits us if we fail the Spider Queen. It helps to keep things in perspective.”

“Typical Drow.” Faraine muttered and it almost sounded affectionate. The ghost elf turned her head, finished with the conversation.

“That sounds interesting. I’d like to see it someday.” Vilaria yawned.

Aunbaste shrugged again, not sure what else to say. The two didn’t get it. And maybe it was Aunbaste’s fault. She wasn’t one for words. She couldn’t describe how in the dim light of the crystals, you could just make out the cobblestone path that led to the outside world and how unappealing that path was. She couldn’t describe how the gate that kept the dead and you locked in could fill you with such comfort. She couldn’t describe the odd moss that grew on the graves and how it tickled your nose and made your palms itch. She couldn’t describe how at home you could feel with the dead and the peace that lingered in the graveyard.

Aunbaste felt a very undrowlike lump rise in her throat. She couldn’t describe any of this, at least in a way that would make sense to her lovers. And she couldn’t describe how, despite the horrors that went on there, she missed the Underdark.


	5. Rich Drow

“Matron Mother…” The young man was cowering. He was actually cowering.

“Bite your tongue.” Pellantriel Arkenlyl hissed. Her servant stepped forward, a whip in his hand and a question in his eyes. Pellantriel nodded.

The crack of the whip was drowned out by the man’s screams. Pellantriel rolled her eyes. How tiresome.

Pellantriel lounged back on overstuffed pillows. She reached into a bowl of surface grown dates and popped a few into her mouth. They had cost her a fortune, but the taste was well worth it. As was the look on her rivals’ faces when she offered them one. What good was wealth if you didn’t show it off, after all?

The young man stared at her with pleading eyes. “I don’t know anything about that girl! I only saw her once!”

“Where did you see her?” She asked and the servant struck the man again. “And enough with that screaming. You’re giving me a dreadful headache.”

“I saw her in the temple of Lolth!” The man panted out. When he wasn’t struck again, words began to pour out of his mouth as he desperately tried to please his captors. “She had come in to seek shelter briefly. She wound up getting in a fight with one of the priestesses. They tried to throw her out but she summoned a…creature.”

“A creature?”

The man nodded. “She has power, Matron Mother. Power beyond my comprehension. It ate the priestess alive, but nobody moved to stop her. It was like they were turned into stone. I was the only one who reacted when she left. I gave her some bread out of fear.”

Pellantriel head shot up. “You gave her bread?” She said quietly. “You…aided her?”

What color remained in his the young man’s face drained away. “N-no! Well, yes! But it was only a scrap! I didn’t know who she was! I swear it!”

“You have aided an enemy of House Arkenlyl,” Pellantriel reached for another date. “You have betrayed us to a foe who would destroy us,” She glanced at the servant. “Kill him.”

The young man, now scared beyond reason, threw himself forward. Perhaps he wanted to beg for his life. Perhaps he wanted to hurt the Matron Mother as he knew his life was forfeit. But he never made it.

“Dispose of that.” She ordered, gesturing at the corpse.

The servant nodded. “Yes, Matron Mother. Shall I get you more dates?”

“Yes,” Pellantriel held out the bowl. The servant took it, a bowl in one hand and a corpse’s arm in the other. “Send my regards to my vendor. These are delicious. And put in another order.”

“Yes, Matron Mother.” The servant left, the body dragging behind him, never to be seen again. Pellantriel knew that when he returned, her problems would be solved and her plate would be full.

She leaned back, her eyes closed in pleasure. It was good to be in power.


	6. Poor Drow

My heart is pounding in my chest as I escape the temple. The blood rushing to my head sounds like laughter. I’ve been hearing laughter a lot recently. I can’t tell if I’m imagining things, if I’m going mad, or if Lolth is in my head. I decide I don’t want to know.

I duck into a back alley. I’ve never been here before, but alleys in the Underdark are all the same. There’s even another person resting there. They give me a weary look as I flop down next to them. As a show of peace, I place my weapon on the ground. Oh, it’s within reach, but I want to look as peaceful as possible. I’m in no mood for another fight.

I close my eyes and I see the spider _I_ summoned swallowing the priestess whole. I open my eyes.

The person is looking at me, her head cocked. She can’t be much older than me. Though she must be poor, she lacks the dull eyed look most urchins have. I can tell. She’s thin, but her hands are surprisingly soft. I notice indents on her fingers where rings must have once rested.

I raise an eyebrow. “What did you have to run away from?” I sound bitter. I have no time for runaways.

She bristles. “That’s none of your business.” Yup. She’s way too well spoken to be a street urchin. I ignore the urge to move away. Typical runaway. Don’t they know some of us would kill to have a home?

I decide to make peace. “Look miss, I’m in no mood for a fight-.”

A look of rage appears on her face. For a moment, she seems too angry to speak and when she does, it’s a low hiss. “I am not a lady!”

I start to inch towards my staff. I can feel the magic inside me welling up, telling me to kill this brat where she- he- stands. The look of anger flees from their face when they see me move.

“Sorry,” He mutters and he begins to retreat. I feel my magic subside. I wonder what my face must have looked like. It must have been frightening to provoke that sort of reaction. “It’s a sore subject.”

Surprisingly, I understand. “Nothing to be sorry for.” I mutter. I slink against the wall, my torn cloak pooling against me as I slide down to the ground. The boy sits next to me, his posture awkward. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s eaten.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the bread that other man gave me in the temple. It’s a larger piece. He must have been pretty frightened of me if he gave me his best piece.

As I glance over at the young man, I feel something that I haven’t felt in a long time. I didn’t even think I was still capable of feeling compassion. But here it is. I look down at my bread and, with a sigh, I tear it in two.

“Here,” I say. “This is for you.”

As he takes it, I realize how young he is. He’s barely an adult. I realize that that must make me barely an adult too. I realize that we’re both too young for this, this life that we live. But there’s nothing I can do about that. All I can do is take pity when I can.

“Thank you,” He says quietly. “I…I don’t have any food, but I do have some water,” He reaches into his pocket and I see his body for the first time. He’s scrawny, but his chest is oddly padded, like he’s wearing numerous shirts under his cloak. He hands me a canteen of water. “My name is Lesdrin. Lesdrin Aleansek.”

“My name is Myr Arkenlyl.” I say as I gratefully take a swig of water.

I don’t believe in mercy, but this? This I could get used to.


	7. Exiled/Expat drow

“LESDRIN!”

The elephant looked down at the Drow elf with a sympathetic look in her large eyes. Lesdrin gave the animal a pat and then turned to face the ringmaster.

“Yes, Doctor Jones?”

The High Elf, with his obnoxious top hat and stupid little snarl, glared down at the smaller Drow. “You’ve been back here for hours, doing nothing but wasting my coin! Get to work! What are you even doing?”

Lesdrin bowed his head to prevent his boss from seeing his scowl. “I’ve been tending to Wisteria, sir. She doesn’t look well.”

“Elephants are easy to come by, Lesdrin. As are workers. And if you don’t go out, you and Wisteria both will be out of a job! So go!”

“Yes, sir.” As the ringmaster left, Lesdrin turned back to the elephant. Though he had no desire to be harassed by the circus patrons, Lesdrin wasn’t lying when he said Wisteria looked sick. Doctor Jones had bought her off a traveling adventurer who had gotten in debt to the ringmaster after one too many drinks. She had stood with her original trainer through many battles, and he had repaid her by never treating her wounds. Her health was ruined. She clearly didn’t have long left. And yet…

Yet she was one of the few beings that seemed to care about Lesdrin. Lesdrin had never been fond of animals before, but if he had ever met an animal with a soul, it was Wisteria.

“Soon girl,” Lesdrin said. He pressed his head against her trunk. “We’ll get out of here soon.”


End file.
